Chaos's Prologue
by Johanna Xarricken
Summary: My personal cannon on Creation that spans Skywward, Ocarina, Majora, Wind Waker and Twilight Princess, plus set-up for A Link to the Past without a timeline split. Unfinished, but expecting to complete soon. Some names have been changed in the interest of creativity.


Ready?

Go.

I am Chaos, all there was before the Goddesses, and all there shall be afterwards. They intruded on the Nothing, My Nothing, the space between what was and what is to be, all Three laughing and bubbling with a life and companionship I never knew, nor sentient enough to realize I had not experienced in the what was. I am all there is, but they pull at the power of the place, so boldly, and yet, in purpose. I watched, floating in the Nothing, as they spun fiery hands around newly condensed matter, energy made stable in the expanding energy of what was, and I howled! I raved and raked my face with my nails but I love them, because they bring Knowing and No Fear and Strength, even though these were my right all along, and I shall watch them, always watch with my Eyes. My eyes watch from the Nothing. I am smiling, even though I have no lips. They do not KNOW I am part of their plot, an integral key in the system of their Creation, but I flow and ripple, I crack and heal, as Chaos is the randomness, the hopeful dice roll, the wager, the UNPREDICTABLE FORCE they use to further their game. I shall watch, but I shall not keep my fingers clean. I am the space necessary to separate the Three…Without space, without conflict, there would be no decisions, could be no choices, and that would be very, very boring.

* * *

The world was comprised of a two great landmasses connected by one centrally located mountain. It straddled the straights between the continents, and the skinny bays on either side of the peak were riddled with treacherous crags. None yet populated Din's vast foundation, but Nayru poured her wisdom and gave rise to the laws of physics and nature, a structured system that still allowed for the raw randomness of unpredictability. Farore stepped up and birthed from her rich soul the life-forms that would abide on Din's earth and under Nayru's laws.

These beings included skywhales, loftwings, dragons, great beasts and four "Giants," not to mention all of the plants and animals. They called themselves the First Generation. Living in nascent peace, the dragons, named for the Goddesses, took up residence in several areas in the East. Past the Central Mountain, the four "Giants," called such because of their tall stature and towering intellect, they explored the world to the West, and each found a biome to their liking. Uod'fl reveled in the southern swamp, Asno'id enjoyed the crags of the north, Grt'ba swam in the endless ocean of the west and Ikna presided over the Eastern Isles on the West side of Central Mountain.

The others who lived in this time were equally enthralled and interested in the world, and little was left unseen. Then the glorious day of Discovery occurred! A skywhale, while drifting in the clouds, found a curious golden relic floating in the air, and it was minuscule against his fin. He wished he knew what the thing was, and lo, the answer manifested in his brain.

It was the Triforce, a treasure that would grant a wish to any individual heart, a blessing from the Goddesses to their children. The golden relic disappeared, but the skywhale knew from the Gift of Knowledge that any who would seek the power may find it, and find it again, as the cycle repeated in a sublime reiteration.

The game was afoot!

For years, the ones who walked the world from its infancy played, as children do, with the Triforce, forever chasing and hunting the chance to make a wish. Those who laid feather, fin, scale or otherwise upon the triplet of triangles were granted their request; some, like Lanayru Thunderdragon asked for knowledge, and invented mechanical followers. Others, like the Giants, asked for more companions to fill the huge world, and bring them new spectacles to watch.

Farore granted the wishes for more people, as she too, was delighted to watch her creations swirl in their endless daily rounds. She sprinkled spirits into some of the forest dwellers, giving rise to Dekus and Kikwis, where Faron Leaftail watched over them. In the mountains, Mogmas and Gorons learned to scrabble in the earth for the beauty Eldin Heatclaw hid there. The oceans and rivers were suddenly full of Zoras as well, and a skywhale named Jabbu gave up his skies for their benefit. The Giants of the West, who were the first to ask for companions, now oversaw four tribes of Elves: Long ears, short ears, red eyes and white eyes. Ikna of the Eastern Isle was the Giant who lived with the white-eyed elves, and they were in close contact with Lanayru and his marvelous robots for the incredibly powerful treasures of the islands they mined around the Central Mountain. Technology flourished faster than anyone, even the Godesses, could have predicted, spreading rapidly from the hub of activity.

The balance of the New Generation came with a high price: responsibility. People were messy, and far more difficult to live around than the original inhabitants, for there were so many of them, and though the world was dangerous to the ignorant, matters of protection did not rise beyond a level the dragons and Giants could not handle.

A long ear woman was the first to die in old age, and the Awareness of Mortality blessed the New Generation of the many races. No longer promised an eternity of the toil of living and aging, the pledge of rest after life was a great gift from the Three indeed. The red eyes became fascinated with Death, and studied the event; soon thereafter, the Sheikah splinter group wandered from their western hold in the mountains of Asno'id into the Eastern continent where they settled in to study the effects of directed will, beneath the ground, away from prying eyes, until half of the group missed sunlight too much to stay below any longer, and were reborn to the bright above. Gorons and Zoras began migrating from their cradles in the east and peppered themselves across the west, finding great comfort in the jurisdiction of the Giants, and displaced some of the elves living there. Likewise, the long ears spread out over the plains and hills, avoiding the shadowy Sheikah in the dales and caverns of the far northeast. The short ears, however, took to the skinny bays of the Central Mountain as well as the Zora, but in beautifully crafted boats.

Chaos, who for eons had watched the Goddesses work, coveted the golden powers. Nearly every First Generation being, like the dragons and giants, made claims, and Chaos had been around since the Goddesses themselves were brought into existence! On a whim, she manifested into the world, modeling her spirit after the First Generation, thus promised longevity, and paraded as a short-eared, redheaded beauty. Many times Chaos entreated the Three for clues to the Triforce, but the confusion and calm that racked her heart deterred any divine action, and every quest and attempt ended in failure. Such is Chaos, that, just when the world seemed to be settling into a comfortable stance, she lashed out in pitiful lamentation.

The pattern appeared crystal clear to the deities, living for so long that a testing of the infant world was imminent.

* * *

Those elves with white eyes, calling their race "Garo," were putting the finishing touches on terrifying inventions: two Mirrors coated with timeshift glass could reflect a subject over great distances; if one stood before the first mirror, the subject would instantly appear before the other mirror.

There was also armor that bestowed incredible strength to the wearer via tiny power channels that utilized latent electricity. Their bustling center of technology was called The Basalt, a towering spectacle of man-made glory, just offset from the Central Mountain. Led by one man, a white-eyed, painted warrior-scientist, he forged himself a Double Helical sword imbued with energy drained from many Garo students by grotesque machines. It was pressed from skymetal in the gas-fed forges. He practiced incessantly with that devilish blade against neighboring tribes, seeming to the farmers and peddlers a god himself, and earned the title "The Fierce Deity," cementing his place in Western legend when he united the rest of the white eyes under the Garo cloak and hood. By now, they were masterful spies, able to shadow any being for miles without sound, constantly gathering information about their world, listing rosters of spirits and their respective areas of influence and became the pinnacle of the Elvin excellence. So it was, in a sleep induced by chemicals and pleasured by dream-potions, a white-eyed woman in green visited the Fierce Deity, and they intertwined spirits.

Meanwhile, the Sheikah had been plumbing the secrets of the Abyss, the Sacred Silence, and worshipped the formless Nothing, the black caverns below the ground. They abandoned the gods and spirits, looking completely within, and this turn was included in their iconography: a single eye shedding a lone tear, to accompany the old adage, "Each eye, the pupil contains our own piece of the Abyss, the Blackness, and woe, we weep for we cannot see it in ourselves." Mirrors don't work well in their society of near darkness in the caverns and underbelly of the world. Events might have been different if Chaos had fallen in with these Sheikah, instead of those who lived above ground; she would have identified with the revelations of Silence, reminded of the Nothing that existed before the Goddesses. Instead, she subverted a little band of mask makers to her will, unaware the Sheikah undergrounders even existed.

Cousins of theirs, a more physical sect of Shadow Folk, specialized in directing their wills, or in a word, magic. Thus far, only dragons and Giants could change the world with only their will, but a group of red-eyed elves discovered the secrets in projecting alteration. Spells, rituals, trances, masks with strange effects, items that held a magical charge and the rudiments of alchemy blossomed on the eastern continent. The fashion spread like fire, and soon, all the races across the two Continents had found magic in themselves.

In an original Sheikah settlement, however, an orphaned long ear with hair like the sun was adopted, and showed an aptitude for incredible magic, and an oracular woman claimed she was Blessed of Nayru. Throughout her youth, Hylia learned the arts of conjuring and transformation, spell-laying and time manipulation. For that reason, a blue timeshift-stone ocarina of mediocre tone came into her possession, but she quickly regifted the thing in preference of a golden harp, which she could pluck with far more delicacy that whistling into a potato. Wisdom came to her almost as easily as pomp. Hylia traveled the eastern world, blessing springs where she could feel most strongly the magic of that area, and her following began erecting shrines that were fast growing into temples.

So it was, a magician whose origins remain lost to all but Din, an agent of that Goddess herself, began his ploy for the Golden Powers in honor of the most Powerful Sister. He called himself Demise, was a cruel pack leader, and with snarling charisma snared droves of unsavory followers to his side as he tore apart the world in search of the Triforce. Starting in the north, Demise crushed rural villages in the hills, moving southward into the plains of Hylia's Land. The first Sheikahn town he came upon was cursed by his insidious magic, and all the women, of every age, were thrown into a premature menopause. Risking safety, Hylia investigated soon after Demise left the area to pillage another. Her attempt to heal one woman failed, as the two opposing spells tore the poor woman's uterus, and she bled her life away. Blood-stained, Hylia vowed revenge for her adoptive people.

She heard tell of the Fierce Deity in the West. Would he help her? Hylia called a faithful loftwing to her and raced on the zephyrs around the Central Mountain, finding the monolithic Basalt with ease. The scale of the building was beyond the provincial long ear's experience, but the nimble moiety of white eyes welcomed one of their old kin, warm for all their technology buzzed coldly. It struck the conjurer that these people used no magic whatsoever, relying completely on tools of their own hands, and they were so comfortable! Creature comforts of electric lights, mirrored panels and incredible decorative taste made the colloquially coined "Stone Tower" bright even in darkest hours, and warmed the floors, and yet the tiles held secrets. Some were traps, designed to keep Garo-in-training on their toes. And there were switches that flipped entire rooms upside down! Hylia could not help but admire the grandeur the Fierce Deity commanded. She opened her heart, and entreated him to stand with her against Demise.

"Bring him to me," Oni Garodi told Hylia in his terrible voice, feline and sanguineously smiling. "This Demise is the challenge I have waited for since a vision I have experienced. I should add, my web of spiderlings has woven quite the picture of his exploits and it will be Demise's tanned hide with which I shall make my next Garo Master's robe. If he thinks he is a big chief down there, hurting women in his search for the powers, then he is no man at all. In my youth, I was bloodthirsty, but only the dissenting and rotten men I called out on their filthy deeds. Courage is not waving a sword, it is to do what will be good for other's hearts before your own. A race he shall have." With that, the Fierce Deity, Oni, sent out his hooded spies to sniff for clues about the Triforce. If Demise came to him without it, he would easily overpower the scoundrel with his technology, and if Oni found the Triforce first…

Hylia counted herself in the race as well. She conferred with the Giants of the West, learning of their own past quests, and they directed her to the Dragons in the East, and she was praised by Eldin, Lanayru and Faron for her efforts to unite the people's hearts against Demise. When asking for advice from the Dragons, the long ear learned of Chaos, and the attempts to gain just what the contemporary three were seeking. They warned Hylia of Chaos's intervention, and above all, to help those who had faith in her.

Neither Hylia nor Oni had to worry about Chaos, though. Demise reached the shores of the Central Mountain Bay and found a short-eared, red-haired beauty dancing on the sand. She and her tribe were prancing around a bonfire, a different costume and mask upon each person, but the woman without a mask enraptured Demise, and the affair was an event that changed the world. Chaos revealed her identity to Demise, who entreated to Din upon her behalf that she should accompany him. Her band of mask-wearers were reputed to be Sheikah, and they fulfilled their end of the bargain by fashioning a mask Chaos requested, slipping away in the night, but few noticed the shadowy slinkers in the announcement that Demise had a bride.

As a wedding present, Chaos presented Demise with the mask that would channel all of his power, and make him unstoppable while wearing it. The mask was Death itself: in the shape of a heart, a hard, pitch black surface that absorbed all light, reflecting nothing, and trimmed with two long canines of some beast and six ragged cat claws, three to each side of the face. The eyes of the mask were perfect amber circles dotted with a disc of red glass and glowing green pupils of paper-thin jade. Demise wore the mask, and poured his magic, his power, spite and rage through those eyes, and razed the burgeoning countryside in a disgusting display.

Just as he was to mount an attack against one of Hylia's temples, a hooded man with white eyes brought a message for Demise.

"To the newly married man and wife, I am sure your offspring will be abominations. It has been requested that you stop your naughtiness, or I will be forced to hunt you. –Oni Garodi." The messenger did not return a reply.

Demise nearly marched on the Basalt as soon as he read the two infuriating lines. He held his temper for once, planning for a siege and infiltration even though Chaos begged for immediate retribution, and his harsh rebuke against her pining sent Chaos into action as soon as Demise turned his cheek.

Chaos appeared at the Basalt and climbed the outside wall for a warm-up. Then, grinning madly, Chaos walked into the chambers of Oni and stole the Fused Shadow Armor while he rested in his usual prescription induced coma. Satisfied with her prize, she forced herself back to her husband's side to present her spoils as a request for forgiveness for her earlier performance.

Furious with his bride, Demise threw his mask into the ocean and would not touch the digital suit. In a fit of wrath, Chaos donned her prize and called the mask back from the sea and settled it over her face, though covered already by the Fused Shadow's helmet, and her powers screamed as the three forces clashed within her.

* * *

There are two continents now. Two separate landmasses, divided by a rending cataclysm, were shoved apart into two seemingly different dimensions, and an uncrossable sea filled the gap left by Chaos's decision to mix the Garo technology with her Sheikah-stolen mask Lore, and her own random power. The Central Mountain was reduced by half, powdered into sand, which went to the East Continent beyond the far Eastern wastes and barren straights.

The other half of the mountain on the West Continent, which housed the Basalt and Ikna the Giant of the Previously Eastern Isle, was now a series of broken, dangerous cliff sides and jumbles of ledges. Ikna reached down to his white eyes, but so few were left outside Stonetower, and there was little a Giant could do sensibly for his faction. Another blow came shortly after the Rending: Oni Garodi disappeared, taking with him the obligation to their Giant to pay daily homage, and in the disorder that presided now, many Garo did not keep up with the routines, and the culture stagnated. The dust clogged the air, obscuring the sun and many of the skywhales were unable to thrive, and passed on, as did most of the loftwings. There was no harvest for the West that year, and the season Winter bore down on the peoples so hard, some started to forsake the deities that wished for their creation.

Ikna faded first. None of the white eyes at the Basalt had any interest in meta-spirituality, focusing instead on the dangerous short ears that were encroaching from the Eastern sea, left fishless and barren by the apocalypse. Many stayed in the canyon, carving out niches of survival, but the balance trotted overland to the other shore in hopes of a similar livelihood as the one they had before. None of the canyon-dwellers paid any fealty to the Giant, and the only vestige left of Ikna was the name for the region: Ikana Canyon. A spark of hope still endured, however. His spirit was so weak and neglected it simply shattered, the shards floating about in the heart of the spiritual hub of Stonetower.

Food was in short supply and clean water flowed sparingly in the jolting rending of the world. Focusing on their own needs entirely, the people of the West abandoned the Giants as protectors, and Uod'fl, Asno'id and Grt'ba faded into the annals of history, sharing Ikna's fate as their spirits randomly bounced around in loose clouds where their people's spirituality lingered. The Deku population was able to manipulate vegetation, growing houses and eventually, a palace and adjoining Woodfall Temple to worship their own cunning mastery of genetic direction. Similarly, the Zoras constructed a water refinery at the ocean, supplying water to the other regions, and everyone knew the Great Bay Company, and their corporate band, the Indi-Go-Go's. In the north, the Gorons developed explosive compounds and became proficient at mining ores and distilling chemicals, discovering blasting compounds and subsequently contracted demolition work for the rest of their world, the few peoples who were surviving.

After a lengthy age, Chaos had scraped herself together in the far Eastern wastes. Memories intact, no real harm, just very close to a cataclysmic clash of opposing forces, her tally of the damage dealt was still in her favor. Never would she have thought the technology of the Garo wouldn't mesh with her own magic, plus the fraction of Demise left in the mask. Then again, her magic was chaotic, and prone to massive flares. What an unfortunate accident.

"You!"

The redhead in the middle of the badlands, the only being for leagues, turned into the setting sun to face her addresser. It was none other than the Fierce Deity, Oni Garodi, his pale swaddlings and foreign armor dusty with travel. How he found Chaos out here was a miracle. Or his downfall, Chaos purred, a pleasingly vengeful idea occurring. Had he been searching for her all this time?

"I." Chaos acted at once and donned her mask, embracing the whispers of Din-flavored Demise's power and held the white-eyed warrior frozen with the channeling gaze. Not an inch he could budge. Those eyes! Without breaking eye contact, Chaos drew a little knife and sliced the face of Oni Garodi from his skull. "Nya nya!" Chaos taunted as she slapped the flap of meat over her own mask. She spoke the words of the Sheikah mask-makers in the lilting melody that sapped the soul of a subject to be implanted in an appropriate vessel. The Fierce Deity's white eyes rolled, though Chaos couldn't tell and enjoyed watching the life drain out of the husk of the Garo leader. "My child will not be an abomination." For good measure, she kicked the heavy corpse and admired her new trophy.

Leaderless, Giantless, goalless, the Garo society that once pulsed in the veins of Stone Tower slowed to a dribble, and their tax on the resources of the Ikana Canyon lightened to the point where a wilderness of sagebush, short grass and Joshua trees disguised the dwindling white eyes population. Those sailors of the once-ocean who settled in the Canyon flourished in the harsh conditions, relishing the challenge of the broken landscape, conquering the hills and settling with sheep gathered in the neighboring mountains. The usual order proceeds: the wealthiest herdsman became chief, whose family upgraded throughout the generations of progress, and in only a few hundred years, Igos du Ikana sat on an opulent throne, the skeleton of Stone Tower his kingdom's backdrop. Curious of the rumors that fabricated, Igos ordered a few phalanxes to investigate the abandoned settlement, expecting a go-ahead for Goronian demolition, and the rubble, he envisioned, would build a temple fit for his divine rule.

Instead, the Ikanese army encountered resistance, and only one woman returned, with one eye and a hand missing, her tongue glued in horror at the surprising abundance of Garo warriors still swarming Stone Tower. The more soldiers Igos threw at the Basalt, the more he lost. He had no idea how many Garo were left unseen or waiting for his population to deplete, though in reality, there were only a few dozen utilizing their familiarity with the treacherous approach to their home to crush, push and fling the endless stream of opponents into the rocks. Such paths soaked up the blood and forever bore the stains of the greatest mutual slaughter in Western history.

So it was, the rest of the world referred to the barren land of dead soldiers and warriors as a waste of wandering, vengeful spirits, awaiting the day their souls could be healed of the lingering regrets. After all, Igos had only wanted to explore, but catching his neighbors off-guard was inevitable; the Garo cared for nothing beyond the comfortable training grounds that stood empty forevermore.

* * *

Chaos wandered the West, searching for Demise and the Golden Powers, carrying her babe, Tehen, with her, showing him the wonders of the Deku metropolis, growing in the warm, equatorial swamps; the mighty granite mountains that changed their gowns in the seasons, adorned by the subtle mining of the Gorons of Gor Darmun, the main village tucked back in a rift valley; the coral spires of Pinnacle Rock and Zora Hall in the livable ocean. All the while, Chaos, who began calling herself Majora as a mortal disguise, offered her services as a healer, purporting to cure any ail, sickness or malady with witchly powers, but her duplicity traveled faster than she: the same song that sapped the Fierce Deity's soul haunted nightmares, for it meant that Mother Majora was about to steal your face.

Tehen giggled when Majora played Funny Faces with the masks she pilfered from the innocent. His favorite story was of the "Bad Guy" who tore apart Majora and Demise, that filthy white-eyed man's leathery mask a grim reminder of Tehen's mother's viciousness. He grew, and the games turned to education, and he sopped up the Lore of Masks faster than any Sheikah who divined the technique. The souls he chose were always those in need, those whose suffering deserved end, and a twisted compassionate ember glowed beneath his mother's chaotic influence, and his crafts were objects of beauty: release transformed into happiness. The mother of the Happy Mask Salesman was proud that her progeny had a beloved position, and his tender gifts, though who knows where he got those, were put to good use, healing the regretful souls Tehen encountered.

Majora drew away from the Western settlements, still wandering, still searching, and above all, hoping to find her former lover, or the Triforce, so she could be transported to his strong side once more. Alas, time went on, and no sign of either could be found. Worse, the West was cut off from the East, and she had no chance to search the other half of the world. Majora descended into insanity, striking out with her bitter loss, became Chaos again, the neutral pebble that disrupts the quiet pond in ripples of change, for good and bad ends.

The bad came first. The jungles fostered a wild man who feasted on the carrion of the forest, and the discordant rhythm of Chaos's tragedy infected his soul. He pulled a huge sword from the muck that washed down from the wars of Ikana in the river that cut through the Canyon and brought life-giving silt to the marshes and swamps. With it, Odolwa the Masked Man attacked the Deku Kingdom with the worst kind of machete.

A skullfish in the deep ocean of the West spawned an offspring of enormous proportion, and it feasted on the Zoras of the ocean and the Gerudo pirates' boats.

In the mines of Snowhead, a piece of novelty mining machinery fashioned after the sure-footed goats that were the Goron's neighbors went haywire and careened through the valuable tunnels of the mountainmen's well-being.

Deep under Stone Tower, in the well-preserved corpse of a former Garo, a tiny worm was pinched in two by a falling chunk of masonry, but his newfound chaotic influence speeded the healing of both halves, and they grew, forever in competition to grow larger. They feasted on the dead, absorbing the latent power of the generators, and became gigantic, but warred constantly, nipping and screaming at each other in frustration with beetle-like pincers.

Tehen's song of healing could not keep up with the calamity. Instead, he journeyed to all of his childhood haunts, sniffing out sign of Majora, but no one had experienced her dark magic in ages, leaving the trails cold, but he would not give up until he found what he knew to be the fecund source of the suffering of the Western Continent. Frostbitten from a winter in the north, diseased from the mosquitoes of the south, crevices rotting from some sea-bound fungus in the west, Tehen lay dying of thirst in the Eastern wastes, and he prayed for assistance, though he hardly expected any. The surprise of a short eared, redheaded beauty appearance in the dust was nearly enough to push him over the edge, but the frank curiosity in the crazed lady's eyes fed the fire of Tehen's will.

"Mother!"

She cocked her head, not understanding, and frowned. Tehen's heart broke to see he was unremembered, and performed his song of healing one more time, singing through a throat of sandpaper to the confused woman before him, glad she had no chance to work any more magic on him. He forced a grin on his chapped lips and picked up the resulting mask, a familiar heart shape and light-sucking blackness. Suddenly the ground wooshed towards him and the jolt of energy that emanated from the mask almost made him drop it, but he could hardly doubt the presence of three spirits warring within Majora's soul, not after handling a hundred and more masks himself! Most were recycled as gifts to people, given freely so the community could only feel joy. This one instance, Tehen realized, the song did not heal, not truly; it healed his mother in the way a scrap of gauze heals a terminal wound, but the dark power of Chaos, the shred of Demise and the flavor of Din reverberated too strongly with unfinished business to succumb to the basic melody of Sheikahn origin. The omen made Tehen's hair stand on end as he recognized the task before him. For now, he would keep Majora's Mask safe and out of dangerous hands, until he discovered a way beyond his experience to help his mother. He picked himself up, and limped back to the greener pastures outside of Clocktown.

Thus, the Terminal Western World awaited the stolen Hero's Spirit. Chaos's impulsive acts robbed the people of their chance in the Golden Cycle, and the guardian Giants were dead thanks to a lack of faith.

* * *

Only the essence of Chaos leaked into the other realm, the shred of memory in Demise enough to maintain the random balance of nature. The other two thirds of the triptych survived on the Eastern Continent, and the war continued, much to Hylia's despair. The Rending of the World had been a terrible ordeal, filling the ocean between the lands with sand and rubble, deadening the shipping industry of Lanayru Thunderdragon and his robots, and soon, Timeshift mining was the only resource available to them, and even that, Hylia prophesized, would fail eventually. Like a volcanic eruption, the dust clouds swirling over the land blocked the sun, causing a poor harvest, but still the people of the East turned to the dragons and Hylia for protection against Demise and his army. A patron of farmers and crafters, Hylia the Conjurer had no force against the frightful ones, no army of her own, and could skirt the swath of damage Demise incited, helping the ones most in need of healing and faith. And in a crystal moment of clairvoyant clarity, Hylia saw the fruit the tree would bear if she only reacted to Demise's deeds. She must be the one to set events in motion, if there was to be any hope of success.

Calling the most loyal to her side, rallying all of the peoples against Demise, her "knights" wore shining, mismatched steel gifted by Gorons and Mogmas, rich uniforms of cerulean dyed with indigo from the forests, and swift, glass-tipped arrows from the desert sands. Demise's forces were clothed in the rotting leathers of the dead, scavenged iron, beaten into shape by blocky hammers and crude stones were lobbed from slings. The advantage lay with Demise, though; he could create minions from the dirt and mud beneath his feet, calling them moblins, and their mindless need to obey Demise caused them to slaughter a neat half of the world's population without mercy.

For the first time, Hylia quailed before the powers of this evil man. She prayed to Nayru, her matron and the other two Goddesses of legend, hoping against hope for some miracle. No divine intervention came, and it was the very lack of action on their behalf that fueled the Conjurer to implement her master plan.

Hylia beseeched the remaining Gorons to construct two swords. One would house her Knowledge, and the other was designed to contain the twisted spirit of her enemy. Next, she lured Demise to her temple in combat, magic versus magic, Will pitted against Will. She was aware from her studies in philosophy that two matched forces remain locked, until an outside force could tip the balance, and she and Demise were matched in just this way. And so, she instituted her greatest spell yet, and sealed the evil in the Demon's Blade, and by law of Will, her consciousness was committed to the other sword. By this time, his minions were mounting a last attack against the elves and the few Sheikah left. Hylia had no time before they would come crashing through her doors. Her last act pierced the earth, riving a huge chunk of precious, life-supporting landscape from the topography and threw it into the sky, where sixty people clung to the ground as they settled far above the reach of Demise's landlocked monsters. Hylia was gone, her soul entwined with the spirit of the sword in the pedestal in her temple on the sky island.

* * *

Below the cloudy expanse, the moblin's union was left to the laws of nature, and most were killed either by their tribe mates for food or petty revenge. The monsters that were stuck on the ground found little reason to rebuild, let the environment claim them, and the cycle of renewal was given a chance to work it's own magic.

Skyloft, as the people called their new home in the clouds, was thin of air, supported a dozen trees and only a spring with sources unseen supplied them with clear water. Some wise men believed the mists of the clouds condensed in the elevated depression, as opposed to the fading magic of Hylia. Day and night blurred the years, and odd seeds planted yielded full harvests of pumpkins and leafy greens, and small animals that stowed away, like the rats and rabbits, were hutched and provided tasty meals. The microcosm of Skyloft started to resemble the civilizations the elders barely remembered, and a primitive school was built to teach the youth about how to keep the peace the group finally achieved. Generations passed and the surface world was told into legend.

Skyloft was dying. The crops that sustained the people so regularly were miniaturizing, even with the abundant sunlight. Pumpkins, fruits and grains had to be moved from the little fields into window boxes, where families greedily fertilized the containers, keeping enough growing to support only themselves. No one had thought about crop rotation, and the nutrients in the soil were dwindling. In the darkest hours, only the rinds of pumpkins nourished the cramping bellies of Skyloft.

Then, on a day when the leaders were discussing how to best address the genocide imminent, a great bird landed on the skyward island. It screeched loudly, defecated in a nearly empty pumpkin patch and took off into the skies. The two gourds feebly clinging to life were coated in the bird's waste, and many despaired, though they were wiped clean. Until a week passed, and the incident was seen to be their greatest blessing: the pumpkins soaked up the nutrients the bird deposited and doubled in size!

A party was set on watch, waiting for another bird to land, at which point the plan was to catch it, and renew their fields. They didn't have to wait long, and turned out to be far easier than anyone predicted. Kapora, the resident elder, approached the huge raptor with a net, preparing to capture the thing. He stopped, for in the bird's eyes he saw himself, they shared a moment of connection. Kapora stretched out his hand and the first Loftwing partner butted feathery head against his palm.

Birds arrived in droves, called by this one, or some other force, and suddenly, Skyloft residents had a way to explore the empty skies and settle the other suspended chunks of land. Farms sprang up, fertilized by the life-saving Loftwings, and the school opened a new branch for skilled riders. Before, children and men alike wandered easily off the edges of their little world, and they were lost forever. Now, the knights of Skyloft patrolled the town constantly and saved those who stumbled.

* * *

All the while, Din, Nayru and Farore watched from the heavens, their own hearts torn like the world and grieved for the Giants, and their mad child, Chaos, who was now trapped in a tight prison in the hands of her son, while the balance of her power permeated the other half of the world, so the Three pondered on how to heal her soul, and for that matter, to rehabilitate the faithless world of the West. Hylia's ensnarement of herself and Demise was an unexpected twist to matters, but it was the inspiration Nayru needed to connect the web of a plan: the Fierce Deity could have tipped the balance, but Chaos's theft of his spirit ensured a stalemate. Din and Nayru's heroes were locked; Farore would be the deciding factor, and so, her agent's genealogy was begun in a family in Skyloft, using Hylia's preparations as the blueprint for their Own. The Triforce the Goddesses created was still in the world, albeit constrained to the East. The place was in a shambles, with few long ears on the ground, the red-eyed Sheikah of the Shadows sending up timid feelers to gauge the state of nature, and the springs Hylia blessed and turned into holy hot spots' Temples fell into disrepair. Time did its work and the scars of Demise's damage faded over the ages, however, and life was returning to a natural rhythm.

Unseen on the Western Desert, a small tribe of short-ears was hacking out a way of life in the rubble of the Central Mountain, and the few long ears left alive were isolated in little mountain valleys, herding the sure-footed goats and taking an interest in the leggy horses that ran the plains below their home.

Hylia's magic was losing its sealing power, and a scrap of Demise corporealized before long, but could not break free entirely, and thanks to the power that was within, unfortunately devised an end to the imprisonment when a whiff of the future wafted by Ghirahim: Din's chosen, Demise's spirit could be resurrected through the sacrifice of Nayru's power hidden in one above the clouds. The erratic and impassioned spirit began his preparation.

In Skyloft, Celda and Lahink, two teens muddling their way through Knight School, were perfectly unaware of the celestial machinations that would lead to the greatest of legends.

tl;dr: Chaos (see desert colossus in OoT) is the Mother of the Happy Mask Salesman, the Fierce Deity should have been the Link to face Demise, Triforce was a game to dragons and skywhales, Garo technology was ancient Twili.

To Be Finished


End file.
